


Schoolboy Trust

by MercurialTenacity



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Come Swallowing, Extremely Dubious Consent, Extremely Underage, First Crush, First Kiss, Grooming, Hand Jobs, Hogwarts, Kissing, M/M, Manipulation, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Teacher-Student Relationship, Young Newt Scamander
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 20:58:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17128628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialTenacity/pseuds/MercurialTenacity
Summary: Newt doesn't know what to expect when he arrives at Dumbledore’s office.  He hopes Dumbledore won’t find him boring. Or annoying. Most people do. He can see on their faces that he either talks too fast or takes too long to find the words for his thoughts, and he can never manage to say things they care about anyway.  But Dumbledore is patient. He listens when Newt talks. He’s not like other people.The drowsiness creeps up on Newt gradually.  It slows his tongue and makes his eyelids heavy, and eventually it has him blinking heavily and trailing off as he notices just how comfortable the sofa is.  It’s big and plush, inviting him to curl up in front of the fire and doze blissfully. Suddenly that seems like a very good idea.





	Schoolboy Trust

Newt settles down on Professor Dumbledore’s sofa and takes the cup and saucer he’s offered, mumbling his thanks as best he can.

He didn’t know what to expect when he arrived at Dumbledore’s office.  Dumbledore had simply asked him to tea, a twinkle in his eye as he said it, and Newt had forgotten how to breathe and said yes so quickly that it wasn’t until he was back in the common room fifteen minutes later that it occurred to him to ask what the occasion was.  He’d spent the intervening time hoping Dumbledore wouldn’t find him boring. Or annoying. Most people do. He can see on their faces that he either talks too fast or takes too long to find the words for his thoughts, and he can never manage to say things they care about anyway.  But Dumbledore is patient. He listens when Newt talks. He’s not like other people.

Being around Dumbledore makes something fluttery come to life in Newt’s chest.  It makes the problems with words worse, but it’s sort of nice too. Like a secret, warm feeling that he can sink into even when he’s alone again.  

He feels that way now, sitting there under Dumbledore’s insightful gaze with the hot teacup in his hands, hoping that Dumbledore starts the conversation because he has no idea what to say.

“I have heard,” Dumbledore says, leaning in conspiratorially, “that you know more about hippogriffs than Professor Owlsworth’s fifth years.”

Newt looks up in surprise.  “Oh - my mum breeds them, they’re really fascinating creatures.  I - have you ever met one, Professor?”

“Tell me about it,” Dumbledore prompts, and Newt does so gladly.

The conversation isn’t awkward, or at least not painfully so.  Dumbledore listens to Newt ramble, nods and hums in all the right places, reminds him to drink his tea before it gets cold, and asks encouraging questions that make Newt’s eyes light up with excitement.  He doesn’t seem bored or annoyed, and Newt is captivated by how interested Dumbledore is in what he has to say.

The drowsiness creeps up on Newt gradually.  It slows his tongue and makes his eyelids heavy.  He wasn’t tired before so it’s odd that he’s having such trouble now, and he tries to keep going because he really is having a wonderful evening.  He doesn’t want it to end. He struggles through it for a while, but eventually it has him blinking heavily and trailing off as he notices just how comfortable the sofa is.  It’s big and plush, inviting him to curl up in front of the fire and doze blissfully. Suddenly that seems like a very good idea.

Dumbledore has started talking, picking up where Newt left off, and that’s good because he really didn’t want the visit to be over.  He doesn’t want to move from the sofa. Dumbledore’s voice is rich and deep, rolling over Newt in waves; such a glorious thing to listen to while Newt’s muscles slacken.  Time has started to jump in funny ways, sometimes he blinks and Dumbledore is finishing a different sentence than he started, but Newt feels too good to care. He relaxes into the blissfully soft cushions, his body cradled and held just right.

 

 

Dumbledore’s fingers brush his own when he takes the cup and saucer from Newt’s loosening grip before it spills.  Newt opens his eyes - when had he closed them? - and meets his professor’s brilliant blue gaze. Dumbledore smiles, and Newt smiles back.

He wonders if he should feel embarrassed about being so sleepy but it’s really hard to feel anything other than warm and floaty.  His head is spinning just a little, but not enough to be unpleasant. Dumbledore is nice, his hands are soft, he _listens,_ so it’s fine.

Someone is stroking his upper arm, the world tilts disorientingly to the left, and Newt falls forward against Dumbledore’s warm, solid chest.  He’s being lifted maybe, or he’s dreaming, he isn’t sure, and it’s suddenly much too difficult to figure out. It’s nice though. He likes being held, it makes him feel safe, and he goes all soft and tingly whenever hands press against his skin.  He feels his body being moved, gently guided so that he’s sitting with his knees on either side of Dumbledore’s hips, and when did he end up in his lap? He isn’t sure but he cuddles in closer, unconcerned. Dumbledore is warm and safe and soft.

“That’s a good boy.”  Dumbledore’s voice is low in his ear, full of warmth and praise which makes Newt flush.  His head is too heavy to hold up, but fortunately Dumbledore’s shoulder is right there for him to burrow into.  He smells nice, crisp and clean with a hint of cologne. Newt wants to be surrounded in that scent.

“How do you feel?”

“S’good,” Newt slurs.  His tongue is very heavy.

Dumbledore’s big hand strokes his spine, and Newt melts against him completely.

“Ah, do you like that?”

“Uh-huh...”  He wishes Dumbledore would stop asking questions and just keep stroking him.  Thinking of answers is hard.

“You’re doing so well, Newt.  So well.”

Newt smiles and focuses on the hand rubbing his back.  It's a firm and steady pressure which starts at the base of his neck and travels all the way down to the small of his back.  He feels like liquid, like warm honey melting in the sun, and it's wonderful. He didn’t expect anything like this when he came for tea, but his mind refuses to be alarmed by it.  The warm feeling that Dumbledore inspires within him is stronger than he’s ever felt.

There are lips and the scratch of a beard brushing his cheek and it makes him all tingly, eyelids fluttering.  The lips press against his jaw, his cheekbone, his forehead, peppering him with little kisses that feel good and tickle at the same time.  He giggles and angles his head, and is rewarded with a kiss on his nose.

The kisses blur together as his mind goes hazy.

 

 

Things have shifted slightly; a hand supports the back of his head and something warm and wet is pressed into his mouth, soft yet insistent.

Dumbledore’s tongue explores him thoroughly, pushing into Newt’s slack mouth and flicking against his own tongue, sending tingly-good feelings all through him.  A little whine is pulled from his throat. Dumbledore's lips are soft.

Newt's head spins even as he clumsily tries to kiss back, opening up his mouth and pushing his tongue forward to meet Dumbledore’s.  This isn't how he pictured kissing, not at all - not with the tongues and the wet sounds, and certainly not feeling so good. It makes his chest feel funny and fluttery, a little jolt sinking into him each time Dumbledore does something particularly wonderful.  He sucks on Newt's tongue and lower lip, licks into him deeply while guiding his head, makes it so good that Newt can't help thinking how lucky he is. He's glad to have his first kiss with someone who makes him feel so safe.

Dumbledore only pulls back once Newt has been thoroughly kissed, leaving his lips plump and swollen and his mouth still alight with the feeling of his tongue.

“You taste wonderful,” Dumbledore tells him, and Newt flushes, sitting dazed in his lap.  Dumbledore tastes wonderful too, and Newt wants to tell him that. His mouth is still open and he stares at Dumbledore's lips, entranced.

“M… mo’?” he manages to ask.  So Dumbledore gives him more.

 

 

Newt shivers with the chill and is glad when he's pulled snug into Dumbledore's shoulder.  He clings to Dumbledore's shirt while big, warm hands roam over his bare torso, and maybe being a little chilly is worth it if it means Dumbledore can reach him _everywhere._  He'd thought the touches felt good before, but now - with nothing between Dumbledore's fingers and Newt's skin - it's incredible.  Dumbledore caresses his spine, drags fingertips over his shoulder blades and strokes his ribs, and his hands run down his sides with a firm pressure until they come to rest on his hip bones and his thumbs press into the sensitive dip at his waist.

“Ahhh…” Newt moans, squirming and pressing into the glorious touch.  He wants Dumbledore's hands everywhere at once, wants be be caressed and squeezed and stroked, and he never wants it to end.

“Tell me what you like,” Dumbledore says kindly, but Newt doesn't even know where to start.

“H-hands, oh -”  Newt’s voice is shaky, and he can hear Dumbledore's smile.

“You like my hands?”

“Uh-huh.  It - Mmm…” Whatever Newt was trying to say dissolves into moans and gasps when Dumbledore kisses his collarbone, and he goes utterly boneless.  Talking is too difficult anyway with his tongue so thick in his mouth.

Fortunately Dumbledore pays attention to his moans, and that works just as well.  He searches out the spots which make Newt melt and presses his advantage once he finds them, seeming to know his body even better than Newt does; Newt never would have guessed it felt so good to have his arse squeezed or his nipples petted - his nipples, oh, _oh -_

Dumbledore squeezes one perked up little nub between his thumb and index finger, and Newt’s mind falls utterly and completely blank.  He’d never thought much about his nipples before, there’d been no reason to, but now he realizes they just might be the most sensitive part of his whole body.  The feeling of Dumbledore rolling them, tugging, pressing in to rub deep, soothing circles - it’s unlike anything he could have imagined. He can’t hold all that sensation inside of him and it spills out as moans and sobs; wrecked, needy sounds which Dumbledore captures in hungry kisses.

Newt wants it to go on forever.

 

 

Dumbledore shifts him so there’s space between their hips and Newt makes a small, unhappy sound at the loss of contact.  He burrows in against Dumbledore’s chest, unconcerned with anything other than being as close to him as possible. Dumbledore chuckles above him.  Newt is aware of his hand being guided, and then his fingers are wrapped around something warm and thick. He looks down fuzzily, unsure what’s going on, only to blink in dull surprise when he sees his hand on Dumbledore’s prick.  He frowns, feeling dizzy.

“P’fessor…?”

“Sssh, Newt, ssh, come here.”  Dumbledore rubs his back, and it only takes a moment for Newt to lose the tenuous hold he had on his thoughts.  He’d been surprised by something…? Remembering is too hard. “That’s a good lad.”

Dumbledore’s big hand covers Newt’s small one and he guides it in long strokes up and down his shaft.  Newt lets it happen, more concerned with burying himself in the scent of Dumbledore’s cologne than whatever’s happening with their hands.  He smells wonderful. Newt has to ponder for a while before he can come up with what the scents are, made more difficult as he keeps drifting in and out, but he thinks it might be pine.  Pine and citrus, maybe. It’s a good, clean smell, which makes Newt feel calm and safe. He noses clumsily against Dumbledore’s neck, trying to surround himself in it.

 

 

Fingers press against Newt’s slack lips, and his head lolls to the side before he’s adjusted and propped up again.  The fingers are insistent and Newt opens his mouth in compliance. He wrinkles his nose at the taste that smears across his tongue, bitter and salty, but he starts to lick and suckle on reflex when the fingers pet his tongue.  That earns him praise and nice touches, so he continues when the fingers return to his lips again and again with more of that bitter substance for him to suckle and swallow. His eyelids are too heavy, so he keeps them closed and just lets himself be guided.

Eventually the fingers don’t come back, and instead a soft handkerchief wipes up his chin.  A kiss is pressed to his brow and then he’s being lifted as the entire world slips away.

 

 

Newt wakes slowly, with the distinct impression that he’s been sleeping deeply for quite a while.  He blinks awake to firelight dancing in front of him, long flames that leap in the hearth, and for a moment he just watches them.  He isn’t quite sure why he’s waking up, because he doesn’t remember going to sleep.

He’s snuggled up on a sofa, clean and dressed and curled under a blanket, but other than that… he’s not really sure.  He’d been in Dumbledore’s office, hadn’t he? With a sleepy groan he pushes himself up, holding the blanket tight around his shoulders while he looks around.

To his faint surprise he’s still in Dumbledore’s office.  Why was he sleeping here?

“Ah, how are you feeling?”

Newt turns to see Dumbledore stepping back into the room, a glass of water in hand.

“I’m… I’m fine, sir.”  Newt tries to wipe the confusion from his face, but he must not succeed.

“You fell asleep.  No no, don’t apologize,” he says, cutting off Newt’s stammered attempts.  “You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about.” Dumbledore smiles kindly, sitting down beside him and offering the glass of water, which Newt gratefully accepts.  Dumbledore leans in to squeeze his shoulder, and as he does Newt catches the scent of his cologne.

Sensations come rushing back, feelings of being touched and held and cared for, half-memories of feeling so very, very good.  They could easily be dreams, but they’re not. Newt looks up at Dumbledore with wide eyes, unsure if the emotion he feels is discomfort or longing.  If he could just remember more… he tries to think back, brows furrowed, but comes up with nothing more than hazy images and sensations, and the knowledge that he’d felt so very safe.

Dumbledore is watching him, and Newt takes a sip of the water.

He wishes he could remember, but if he trusts Dumbledore maybe he doesn’t have to.  Dumbledore had taken care of him and made him feel good, that much is clear in his mind.  He drinks the water slowly, interrupted by the occasional yawn and scrubbing at his tired eyes.  His body is still heavy and sleepy, and he wants to snuggle back down into the sofa and sleep for an entire week.  Or maybe he wants to curl in against Dumbledore’s side.

When he’s in danger of listing sideways Dumbledore takes the glass back and helps him up to his feet, steadying him when he sways.  He accompanies Newt all the long way back to the Hufflepuff common room, an arm around his shoulders as they walk to keep him from stumbling.  All Newt can think about is the scent of pine and citrus, and the way it makes his stomach all fluttery.

Dumbledore bids him goodnight at the common room entrance, a twinkle in his kind eyes, and for a moment Newt thinks Dumbledore is going to kiss him.  He isn’t sure whether he wants him to or not.

But Dumbledore doesn’t kiss him.  He just squeezes Newt’s shoulder and leaves him to clamber through the portrait hole to the dark room beyond.

He climbs into bed fully dressed, thoughts spiraling quickly down into sleep.  He puts aside the anxious uncertainty that he doesn’t really know what happened to him.  There’s no point worrying about it. He trusts Dumbledore, and if there’s one thing he’s sure about it’s that when it was happening he’d wanted it to continue.

That should be enough, right?

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [mercurial-tenacity.tumblr.com](http://mercurial-tenacity.tumblr.com/)! :)


End file.
